


Prove Me Wrong

by mrsrickgrimes



Category: The Walking Dead
Genre: F/M, Love, walking dead - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-26
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-03-25 22:23:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3827149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsrickgrimes/pseuds/mrsrickgrimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You prove to Rick you're worthy of being his "left hand man", but some things may complicate his decisions..</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Usual Questions

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic, so have patience with me! Lol ;)

You wake up to the smell of fire; not just fire, but something else is there. You're surprised for a moment, but come to find out, you were just smelling the usual-rabbit and squirrel-meal the group always has. Feeling stupid for thinking it would be anything else, and the fact you woke up late, you mope over to Beth. She's feeding Judith, so you try to blend in and look like you're helping. "Beth is a vital member of the group, and so are you" you try to convince yourself. You've always hated the fact you were a little bit weaker than the rest. You see your brother's face as you hear his deep, kind voice speak the words "You are smart, (your name), and that's what gets you halfway, but you need to learn how to defend yourself." Oddly that's all you can remember of him. It has been over a year without a memory of him. 

Outside the sun is almost blinding. You find shade near Daryl, Tyreese, and a few others getting their breakfast. "Good morning, sunshine. We have a divine cuisine prepared for this morning!" Rick says as he hands you a plate. How can he read you so well-making you laugh with all the jokes? Does he know that you feel weak compared to the rest of them? Those are the questions that constantly enter your mind as you probe it. He can read you, and for that, you've always loved him.

The same scene: a courtyard full of people- this rag-tag crew you love as family, chatting and making fun with what they have, prison fences, yellowed walls, and old basketball goals. You decide there's nothing special about this day and begin eating slowly, sneaking a look at Rick every few minutes. After a few times you look down, begin to look again, and suddenly you catch him staring at you. His stare is dominant, like he doesn't even care that you obviously have noticed. You cannot tell if he admires you or is studying you. No matter the answer, you love his attention.


	2. What's Going On

Gunshots fire in the distance, motorcycles and cars approach, but it's all black. Suddenly the black is gone and you're stunned with not the light of day, but the headlights of the cars that were once approaching. It takes a minute. Your eyes dilate, and your vision becomes less of a blur.

Whatever happened before, it doesn't matter. My story doesn't matter. All that matters is now. Now is how you survive, how you keep breathing. We're all in a line, each having their head uncovered from the sack cloths. This man, this "Negan" we've been after, we've finally met. Puts you in a line and sings childish songs of how to pick one over the other when not knowing how to make a choice. Having fun while deciding who should be gruesomely beaten to death by some vamped up bat with a name. You're at the end of the line, furthest from Rick, "but that doesn't matter" you tell yourself. You close your eyes and bring yourself through a journey of your life. Flashes of your parents and your brother. His plaid shirts-you have one on now, George-your dog best friend, trying to make it through college-all that time trying to find yourself, your relationship with your grandparents, their death, the end of the world, your new, real family, and...Rick.

"No, no look down the barrel and shoot." "There you go, you've already got the hang of it and we're only three minutes in." 

"Yeah well, I was raised in the South, same as you. We're born knowing how to strip a baretta and lung shot a buck." 

"Pretty impressive you vigilante, but can you keep your mind on your survival while doing it?" Rick lets in four walkers. "Observe your surroundings while killing them; you have to do multiple things."  
You unload on the walkers, doing pretty well in your opinion-you're hard on yourself, getting mostly head shots while Rick lets in more to challenge you. The rest are perfect, clean kills. You weren't showing off, but you decide "what the heck". Rick smiles as he approaches to pat you on the back. 

"How about we head back to the cell block?" "You shoot just as well as I do, and it's not like your a kid with it or anything."

"Sure." At this moment you felt most proud. It was one of your happiest memories; the aesthetic environment made you so full of life. You loved the people around you and you loved the wilderness in which you lived in. Maybe that's why it flashed by at this moment.  
Your attention is ripped from memories into the present as you hear the screams of the bat's victim-Lucille's victim; it was like drowning. Blood everywhere; you couldn't breathe; a lump of emotions just filled your throat as you tried to make words, but nothing came. It definitely wasn't the first to die at the hand of this man, but would it be the last?


End file.
